Maya's Song: The Pedagogue Chronicles: Book I Read online

  Maya's Song

  THE PEDAGOGUE CHRONICLES

  BOOK I

  VICKI B. WILLIAMSON

  OTHER TITLES BY

  VICKI B. WILLIAMSON

  Finding Poppies

  Key of the Prophecy—an Ellen Thompson Thriller

  To the dreamers . . .

  LIGHTNING STRUCK THE CLIFF, ILLUMINATING the two figures who stood at its edge.

  “Once and for all, brother, with a grasp of our hands a challenge is cast.” A harsh wind blew the woman’s hair from her face to reveal a beauty so stark and cold, it cut. Stepping forward, she extended a hand from beneath the folds of her cloak. “When the Three and Three become One, the judgment will be made for good or evil.”

  Caleb stared down at her hand. He remembered a time when it had given succor and comfort. A time when his twin and he had truly each been halves of a whole. Where had that time gone?

  “Come now, brother.” At her words, he looked from her hand to her eyes. Eyes so like his own. “Or perhaps you are afraid you’ll lose. Lose everything you’ve fought so hard for all these millennia.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed with his sister’s challenge. Even knowing she deliberately provoked him, he stepped forward. He would take this contest, and he would win.

  With a quick motion, he grasped her hand. The slap of skin against skin echoed over the raging ocean, louder than even the thunder.

  “You are correct, Cassandra. It is time our conflict was at an end. When the Three and Three become One, we will know.”

  1

  “OUCH!”

  Maya turned to catch the culprit and wasn’t surprised to see Teck standing behind her. The bane of her childhood couldn’t seem to stop himself from picking on her. Her gaze fell, and she turned to continue through the shop. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  With an inner sigh, Maya muttered, “Shopping,” and headed toward the front counter. She wasn’t surprised to hear his heavy footsteps on the wooden floor as he followed her.

  Causing more irritation than pain, she flinched at another yank on her long crimson tresses. Halting, Maya spun around to confront him, only to be stopped by his pleased expression. He stood, bigger and taller than her, eyes sparkling with humor, hands on his hips, feet planted apart. He did look handsome, she grudgingly admitted.

  “Your Names Day is tomorrow, huh? You’ll be sixteen.”

  “Yes,” Maya said softly, and a blush colored her cheeks. Tomorrow, she’d be considered a woman to the small community she and her mother lived in, though they lived outside of town in a small cabin. She and her mother had never really belonged to this community. They found her lack of a father ample reason to ostracize her and her mother. Their prejudices didn’t stop them from availing themselves to her mother’s services as a healer, though, as she had an uncanny way with the healing arts. Plenty of them made the distance to the little cabin for her remedies. Maya preferred not to come into town, but today her mother wanted something special—something they couldn’t hunt or forage for themselves.

  Once again, turning from Teck, Maya moved quickly to the counter. Her mother sent some rare coins with her for the purchase of the precious sugar for her Names Day cake. She was also to stop at the fish market for their dinner tonight. As she waited for the proprietor to finish with another customer, Maya felt the heat of Teck at her back. Outside, her dog, Rory—a large mix—uttered a yip and planted his front feet on the door. He seemed to sense the confusion she felt when near Teck.

  Purchase finished, the townswoman in front of her looked down her nose at Maya, sniffing in disapproval as if she’d caught scent of an unpleasant odor. Maya had an urge to smell herself even though she’d bathed just that morning. With effort, she ignored the woman and stepped around her. A smile split her lips as she faced the owner of the shop, where he stood behind the counter.

  “G’morning, Maya. Happy Names Day to yah.”

  Mr. Bachmann, who had owned the shop for as long as Maya could remember, was a nice man. He often allowed her mother to barter services for goods and trusted them if they needed to run a tab at his store. His trust was never in vain, as her mother always paid her bill.

  “Good morning, Mr. Bachmann. Thank you.” A warm smile touched her lips, and she relaxed.

  “Sugar, ayah?” he asked when she told him what she needed. He measured out the amount from a large bin and wrapped it in paper to hand to her. “That mother of yorn making you a cake for your special day?”

  “Yes, sir.” Maya reverently placed the packet of sugar within her knapsack for the trip to the wharf, and then home.

  When he told her the amount, she opened her hand to reveal one of the coins her mother had entrusted her with. The coin would more than pay for the sugar. The shop owner’s eyebrows rose when he caught sight of it. “Now, Maya. Where’d you get that?”

  “My mother’s been saving for my Names Day.”

  Taking the coin from her palm, he turned it over before he placed it in a lockbox.

  “Will you be runnin’ a credit for the extra, or you needin’ something else today?”

  “No, sir. Just a credit.”

  With a nod and a quick glance at her, he turned toward the jars of sweets along the back wall. “Go ahead and pick yourself a treat, why don’t you Maya.” When she began to shake her head at him, he put up a hand to stop her. “My gift to you . . . for your special day.”

  Surprised and pleased, Maya selected a hard candy, and when he handed it to her, she placed it with the sugar. “Not gonna enjoy it now?” he asked.

  “I thought I’d share it with my mother,” she explained, another blush coloring her cheekbones.

  With a stretch, the owner patted her hand and said, “You’re a good girl, Maya. You have a nice day now and tell your mother ’ello.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured. As she turned toward the door, she couldn’t stop herself from risking a glance at Teck. Confusion filled her head when her pulse quickened. He’d stood still and quiet the whole time she made her purchase. As she passed through the door, she could hear Mr. Bachmann ask him what he needed, but she didn’t wait to hear his response.

  Outside, the sun fell on her face, causing her to squint against the brightness. In its welcome warmth, she had a moment of bliss before the bell above the shop door jingled and Teck stepped out. She tried to ignore him and, with a gesture at Rory, stepped down onto the dirt street and headed toward the lake.

  “Maya, wait.” She heard him plain enough but kept walking. She really needed to get away from Teck. He grabbed her arm and spun her around but broke the contact quickly as if she were hot to the touch.

  With another sigh, she asked, “What, Teck?” Impatient, and not wishing to make a scene in the middle of the street, she looked left and right, making sure they weren’t being watched. She wished he weren’t so good-looking. A couple of years older than her, he was already a man in their community. He came from stock that stood tall and strong—even now, his broad shoulders blocked out the sunlight. Standing in his shadow made Maya feel even smaller and more vulnerable. As she waited for him to get on with whatever he thought he had to say, a breeze lovingly lifted his thick black hair and pulled it across his forehead. Her fingers itched to push back his hair, but she snapped her mind back to the present. As if offended by her thoughts, the same breeze snapped her skirt around her legs attempting to drive her away from him.

  “Will you be coming into town for the harvest celebrations?” Had his face not been in shadow, and if she didn’t know him better, she’d swear she saw a slight flush come to his skin. Almost as if h
e were at a loss for what to do, he reached a hand to pet Rory but stopped when the big dog issued a warning growl low in his throat. Maya placed a hand on her companion’s head to calm him and gave Teck a look of dismissal.

  “No, Teck. I have work to do and no time for the frivolousness of a celebration.” Maya turned and walked down the street, pushing her relaxed stride to hurry. A few blocks away, she chanced a look back, a sigh bowing her shoulders when she saw he hadn’t followed her. Teck confused her. She just needed to get the shopping done and get home. Looking down at her pet, she gave him a pat on the head. “Good boy, Rory,” she cooed, causing the dog’s tail to wag.

  As Maya continued through town, she couldn’t help but notice the looks that came her way. She was used to it, but no matter how hard she tried to rise above it, the townspeople’s disapproval continued to wear at her. She’d give anything to take her mother somewhere where they could truly be part of a community. Accepted and loved. She’d asked her mother why she insisted on staying in the home they now occupied—why couldn’t they move to another place? A place where the people didn’t know them. They could be whomever they wanted, and no one would be the wiser—but her mother refused. She wouldn’t speak of it and simply stated she would be staying here. Maya could find another home for herself. Now that her sixteenth birthday had arrived, her options were open. With a shake of her head, she gave a small chuckle at her foolishness. She would never leave her mother. They were all each of them had.

  As Maya neared the wharf, she could hear the faint echoes of men’s voices as they shouted back and forth at each other. Above her were the sounds of water birds. Their calls mimicked the working men. The fish markets weren’t even within view when her nose told her she was almost there.

  2

  THE OVERPOWERING STENCH OF FISH entrails filled Maya’s nose, and for a moment her stomach churned. After a few more breaths, the intensity of the scents became more bearable.

  With a hand on the rail overlooking the water, she rose to the tips of her toes to locate a particular boat. The Amerlin Clipper was moored toward the end of the pier. She was one of the largest fishing vessels, able to travel closer to the middle of the lake and catch fish at greater depths. This made her the perfect choice for Maya to find a cuttooth bob—her favorite fish. They lived at the bottom of the lake and took expertise to hook.

  With careful steps, watching for fishing lines and other debris along the dock, Maya made her way to the trade area near the Amerlin Clipper. Two sailors were busy selling their catch, and Maya was happy to see what she wanted among the items.

  Taking an assertive step, she placed herself into the line with the other buyers and waited patiently for one of the sailors to notice her.

  “Help you, love?”

  She couldn’t stop it when the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. His accent was foreign, but she liked the lilt of it. “Yes, please. I’d like one of the cuttooths. A big one, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, of course.” With a move quick from long practice, the sailor stuck his hand in the gill of the fish, flipped it onto a large stretch of paper, wrapped it quickly, and handed it to her. Maya gave him another of the coins her mother had provided her, and after a quick look at her, he nodded and pocketed the money.

  With the fish and sugar purchased and secured, she was ready to return home. Maya was glad to be leaving town. The noise and abundance of humanity quickly became too much for her. She felt more at home in the forest surrounded by the wild plant and animal life. Along the dock, Maya called Rory several times, the temptation of rancid viscera almost too much for him to resist.

  It wasn’t until they moved into the shadow of the forest that Maya took a deep breath and felt her nerves dissipate. This was her world, her perfect place. Since she was a small child, she’d had an affinity for the plants of the wild. Her mother explained it, saying everyone was born with something special about them. Maya knew it was more than that, though, and chose to keep this ability secret from everyone except her mother.

  When she sang to them, the plants would grow and bloom. They would reach for her when she called. She felt their energy within her.

  As they moved along the trail, which led deeper into the forest and ultimately to her home, the earthy smells and sounds comforted her—the forest, fallen leaves, soil, faint scents of animals, the sounds of birdsong, small animals in the underbrush, and the distant gurgle of a stream. It was music, like a great symphony that filled her soul and gave her peace. She was a part of the nature around her, rooted in the rich soil.

  Too soon, the path thinned and the cabin she shared with her mother came into view. It was small but quaint, and her mother insisted it be kept in good repair. A line of smoke meandered toward the sky from the chimney, telling her that her mother was beginning to prepare the last meal. Window boxes bursting with flowers caught her attention with their array of red, yellow, and purple blossoms. A healthy, well-tended garden peeked out from the rear edge of the cabin, reminding Maya she still needed to gather vegetables to go with the fish for tonight’s meal. To the other side of the cabin was a small lean-to and corral that housed an old milk cow. For as long as Maya could remember, Old Meg had provided her with warm milk for her breakfast. Through the partially open door, she could hear her mother singing softly. She recognized it as a lullaby she’d sang as Maya grew. Her mother must be feeling nostalgic. Tomorrow was her Names Day after all.

  When Maya passed through the doorway into the cabin, she was momentarily blinded by the darkness inside after the bright sun outside. Blinking, her vision adapted, and her mother’s form stooped by the fireplace stirring something in a kettle. Rory followed her in and busied himself sniffing every inch of the room—acting as if he’d been gone for a year instead of a few hours.

  “Mother, I got the sugar and fish.”

  “Good, my love. Why don’t you put the fish in the cool pantry for later? We’ll make your cake this evening, after dinner and the chores are done.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Maya moved into the one-room cabin without any conscious awareness of its amenities.

  In one corner was a large feather mattress that she and her mother shared. It was covered by a homemade quilt, bright with colors and patterns. She valued it not only for the warmth it brought on cold nights, but for the memories of its creation. The quilt was a project they’d shared when Maya was a child. Its construction taught her the joy of taking her time to make something beautiful.

  Maya set her pack down next to a small shelf attached to the wall, where treasures of a young girl, a beautiful blue stone, and a few cherished books sat. Later she would sit before the fire and read a few chapters to her mother. The book was always Maya’s choice. Learning how to read on her mother’s knee, it was years before Maya realized only a select few of the elders in town could read the printed word. She’d questioned her mother about how she had learned, but as usual, when queried about her past, her mother became evasive.

  Placing the fish in the cool box and the sugar in a stone container next to the hearth, Maya reached for a basket she used for gardening and a bucket for milking.

  “I’ll get the chores done, Mother.”

  With an absentminded nod, Maya’s mother waved her out. “Take the dog with you,” she called, and Maya gave a whistle that had Rory jumping up from the bed he’d made on the floor.

  As soon as she stepped into the sunshine and fresh air, Maya was once again in tune with the nature around her. Walking among the stalks and rows of her garden, she ran her fingers lightly along the vegetation. Vines wrapped gently around her fingers, and flowers turned their heads in her direction as if she were the sun living among them. A warmth filled Maya. Love wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but what she felt here was somehow different. What she felt among the plants was deeper, to her core.

  Gathering different vegetables, she was disappointed to see her favorite, a chostle pepper, wasn’t ripe enough to pick. She so loved the sharp, crisp ta
ste with fish. Humming low in her throat, she gently placed her fingers around one and smiled to see it swell and ripen within her grasp. Plucking the dark purple vegetable, she held it to her face and inhaled, looking forward to their meal. She placed it in her basket and continued her chores, weeding, hoeing, and watering the plants, her mind on tomorrow. What would it bring? What did being an adult mean? Would there be any changes? She couldn’t imagine what those changes might be. Happy within her world with her mother, she still longed for adulthood.

  After finishing with the garden and taking the basket of vegetables to her mother, she headed to the corral and Old Meg. When the cow saw Maya, she let out a deep lowing.

  “I know, Meg, old girl. I’m coming.”

  The corral gate opened easily, allowing Maya and Rory to slip through. The dog touched his nose to that of the cow in greeting and then wandered around the paddock, checking out the scents. Maya moved to the lean-to and retrieved a small stool and then returned to the cow. With a gentle hand, she patted Meg and planted the stool next to her with the bucket under her full udders. Meg stood docile, munching her cud, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

  Placing her forehead against the cow’s warm, slightly prickly belly, Maya allowed the motion and mindlessness of milking to lull her, and her mind began to wander. She found her thoughts, not for the first time, turning to Teck. The image of him in town, the large smile spreading across his face, had her pulse quickening in an unexpected but pleasant way. Shaking the thought, she stopped milking and placed a balancing hand on Meg’s side. Meg glanced back at her and then resumed her stance. Maya shook her head, reminding herself how frustrating Teck could be.

  “I hate him.” With an inward assessment, she realized this statement wasn’t really the truth. Somewhere, somehow, her feelings for Teck had changed, grown. Her eyebrows pulled together as she realized this notion did not make her happy. Is that what turning sixteen would bring? Would her feelings no longer be hers to control? As anger started to replace confusion, Rory jumped up and barked, advancing to the edge of the gate. With a quick look past the bulk of the bovine, Maya saw the subject of her doubt step from the forest.